


Setting the Boundaries

by Chichirinoda



Series: Chain Arc [4]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-06
Updated: 2009-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giriko wants something from Mifune, and as far as he's concerned, he's going to get it whether Mifune likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> Serious arachnophobes may be triggered by this installment as well. I know _I_ got the willies writing it!

The weight of Mifune's sword case dragged at his shoulder. Twelve katana might not look like all that much, but that was a lot of metal, and the case itself wasn't exactly light.

Not only that, but Mifune's shoulder muscles generally ached these days, and he had several fresh welts on his upper back. After a week of nightly training with the flat of his hand, Giriko had declared that Mifune liked it too much, and had decided that actual punishments would henceforth be delivered by a crop. Of course immediately after that decision had been made Angela had had another nightmare and Mifune had been forced to leave Giriko for a full half-hour last night. Though it really didn't hurt all that much more, Giriko had gotten a bit too enthusiastic towards the end, and he now had a few angry stripes across his shoulder blades that hadn't faded by morning.

But he wasn't thinking too hard about his physical complaints, and besides he wasn't due to go to Giriko's suite for hours yet. He was on his way out of the castle and his attention was largely on the task of finding a cool place under the trees where he could practice. It was much easier to practice his sword style outside, so he made this trek every day, rain or shine. He had been told that it was hot and sunny out today, so he was considering the terrain around the castle, and where he would be able to find a spot that would be shaded by the trees but not too deeply enclosed.

"Hey. You."

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't at first realize who had addressed him. The words were distressingly familiar, except that the voice which had spoken wasn't at all the one that he was becoming attuned to. But he paused and looked around, confirming that it was one of Arachne's masked minions who had spoken.

There was a knot of five of them nearby, standing around talking, and since all of their masked faces were turned towards him, it was impossible to tell who had spoken.

"What?" Mifune asked, not liking the aggressive way whoever it was had called him.

One of them took a step forward. He was tall and broad, heavily muscled, at least as far as Mifune could tell under the concealing clothing. Certainly he was taller than Mifune by almost a foot, and Mifune wasn't exactly short.

"You're Mifune, right?" He had a rough growl of a voice, and he sounded distinctly unfriendly to Mifune.

The samurai turned to face him, not inclined to be polite. "Yes, I am. What do you want?"

"What do I want? Who the fuck do you think you are?" There was a rumble of derisive laughter from the group. The man put his hands on his hips aggressively. "You really think a slave like you can get away with being so rude?"

Mifune stared at him. What in hell had he done to earn this? He had heard more and more whisperings over the last week, and was quite certain that Bekko had been talking, but this was the first time anyone had been stupid enough to confront him. "I can be as rude as I like," he said coldly. "So why don't you fuck off, unless you have some legitimate business with me."

"Why don't _I_ fuck off?" The man sounded incredulous. "You hearing this, guys? I think the little fucker doesn't know his place, that's for sure."

The familiar words made Mifune go cold. He didn't know his _place_ did he?

Oh no, he was _not_ going through anything like this again. Especially not from this little pissant who was all muscle and no brain.

In a flash, he had drawn the sword at his hip with his right hand. He extended it towards the man's throat and darted towards him, the point aimed straight at his Adam's apple. The man yelped and backpedalled, and Mifune followed ruthlessly.

His friends scattered as the man stumbled backwards. As Mifune continued forward, point pressing against his throat, he reached behind him into his case of twelve swords and drew a second blade with his left. This one he held up at right angles, his eyes darting from side to side in case he had to defend himself against one of the others.

The first man's back slammed into the wall and everything stopped. Mifune froze instantly, having calculated the precise moment when the man's back would hit the wall. Mifune's blade had penetrated the thick cloth below the mask and was still just touching his opponent's Adam's apple.

A single drop of blood welled up and dripped down from the point of Mifune's sword.

"Let me make something clear. Are you listening?" he asked sharply.

Everyone nodded. The one he had pinned against the wall nodded only a tiny bit, but that was likely because he was terrified he would cut himself badly on the blade if he moved his head any more.

"I am no slave," he growled. "And I'm certainly not interested in being ordered about by a pathetic piece of shit like you, like _any_ of you," he added. He spat at the first man's feet, then straightened up and backed off warily, lowering the point of his right-hand sword, but keeping the left one raised. No one seemed inclined to move, let alone attack.

"If I see any of you again, you'll regret it. Get out of my face. And tell all your stupid friends, too. The next one who thinks that they can talk to me like that will bleed a hell of a lot more than you just did," Mifune said.

There was a general scramble and within seconds, all five of them had disappeared around the corner and were gone, leaving nothing but the memory of their cursing in their wake.

Mifune waited another few moments, then slid the swords back into their sheaths and continued on with a sigh. It rankled that everyone in the castle seemed to know about his position, and worse, think that it meant he was weak.

He also had a feeling that wasn't going to be the end of it, but if he could put the fear of god - or at least of his blades - back into them, it shouldn't be too unbearable. Anyone who attacked him while he had his swords was a real idiot.

* * *

"She hasn't had her story yet, so if you could read to her that will probably get her to sleep faster," Mifune said, unbelting his katana and leaving it by the door by habit.

It was ten to ten, the time he usually left. Bekko was good about arriving fairly early, giving Angela time to be kissed to bed by Mifune, and for Mifune to give Bekko any special instructions before he left. He tried to be about five minutes early for Giriko, to ensure that if anything odd happened he wouldn't be late. It was never a good way to start an evening.

"Story, got it," Bekko said, settling into his usual perch on the couch. Mifune no longer locked the door to Angela's room, since Bekko was there to babysit, and he could hear Angela talking to her newt in the bedroom, playing softly.

Mifune grasped the doorknob and Bekko suddenly spoke up. "Hey, Mifune," he said. "You doing okay?"

The swordsman heard a note of concern in his voice and remembered their conversation that first night they'd met. Had it been only a week ago? It seemed longer than that. His nights were so exhausting. Though Giriko wasn't brutal about his treatment every night, it was unexpectedly exhausting to simply be attentive, to deal with Giriko's moods. And to worry, to worry all the time that _this_ time it would be really bad.

"I'm fine. Have no concern for me," Mifune said grumpily, not looking at Bekko.

"I was thinking," Bekko said slowly. "I mean, nothing might happen, but _if_ something does, I could take Angela. I think she's starting to trust me."

Mifune glanced over his shoulder in surprise at this unexpected offer. It shouldn't have felt like such a relief that this man, whose face he had never even seen, would care for her if he were gone.

He nodded, fractionally. "Nothing's going to happen," he lied. "Giriko hasn't done anything so--" He stumbled a little over his words. Of course what Giriko had done was bad. What a strange thing to think, for even a moment. When he realized what he'd been about to say he amended his words hastily. "I mean... I'm not going to die so easily."

Bekko was silent for a beat. "Yeah, but still," he said apologetically.

Mifune said nothing. He looked at Bekko for a moment, wishing he could at least meet his eyes, but they were shadowed by the mask. A moment later, he simply turned away and left the suite.

He walked quickly, absorbed in his thoughts. The exchange with Bekko had thrown him off badly and he struggled to regain his equilibrium, his head down and his feet moving quickly, focussed on getting where he was going and lost in his own swirling feelings.

Then a rough hand closed over his upper arm and he was yanked off balance.

His head came up and he saw a grinning mask fill his vision a split second before a fist drove hard into his stomach. All the air rushed out of him and he felt both of arms pulled back and pinned as he sagged, gasping, his vision swimming in front of his eyes.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are ya?" someone hissed in his ear. "Without your pointy sticks."

"Fuck...you..." Mifune gasped. He recognized the voice from earlier that day, and he couldn't believe the audacity of the man. There were two others he could see, and he wondered if only two of his buddies had had the balls to try this with him, or if there were more behind him.

"Oh really? Not all the fight's been beaten out of you yet, has it?" the man chortled. "Well, we'll see about that."

Mifune stepped hard on his foot, but he was wearing soft shoes and the man was in thick boots, so he and his fellows merely laughed. He felt something cold close around both his wrists just above Giriko's chains and realized they had handcuffed him.

"Let me go," he gasped, struggling to gather the breath to shout louder, shout for help. It would be humiliating, but at least whatever they planned wouldn't come to pass. Besides, he wasn't all that far from Giriko's room, and he was sure _Giriko_ , for all of his faults, would be pissed off to find out about this.

But before he could draw breath to yell, a bundle of fabric was stuffed into his mouth. He gagged and tried to spit it out, but then darkness fell as some kind of hood was pulled over his face and tied tightly at the back of his neck. He struggled, but felt himself being dragged backwards, through a doorway.

The door slammed, and it was like the death knell of Giriko's door, but even worse.

"Wouldn't want you to be able to identify us later, hmm?" the first man chuckled. Mifune snarled, but the gag in his mouth reduced his sounds to a mere fraction of the intended volume. He couldn't shout, he couldn't yell, and he certainly couldn't free himself from the handcuffs.

He felt someone's hand cup his groin and struggled even harder in the bruising grip on his arms, to more sounds of hilarity.

"Man, he's liking it already," a voice he hadn't heard before said. The heel of his hand was rubbing Mifune's cock through the fabric of his pants, and he realized to his horror that he _was_ getting aroused. And not just from the touch. From the moment he had been grabbed, his body had started to awaken.

God, what had Giriko done to him to cause this reaction? He could feel his cheeks heating and was slightly thankful for the hood masking his face. Not that his dignity really could be preserved, from all the jeering around him. They were having a good enough time without knowing that he was blushing.

"I don't give a fuck if he likes it or not," the first man said. "It just proves what I was saying though, doesn't it? Well, if he comes, he comes, I know _I_ don't give a fuck either way." This comment was met with derisive laughter from the other two.

Mifune was pushed downwards and his chest slammed hard into a table. He grunted with pain as he was bent over the unyielding surface and pushed firmly into it. Someone undid his fly and his pants were yanked down around his ankles.

A whimper bubbled up in his throat and he repressed it mercilessly. Whimpering in front of Giriko was one thing - he had long ago lost any illusions as to his ability to maintain his dignity in front of him - but in front of this filth? Never.

They didn't bother to prepare him, didn't bother to do a thing. In a moment a thick cock was pushing hard into Mifune's body and he screamed around the gag as pain rippled up his back.

"Man, look at those welts," someone said in tones of awe, but Mifune could barely hear him. His world narrowed to a point as the one behind him thrust deep into his body and began pumping away without a single care in the world for Mifune.

Mifune screamed until he was hoarse, then the first one spent himself inside him, and another took his place. By the third, Mifune was limp and reduced to soft croaking cries and whimpers, but his passage was eased by merciless stretching and lubricated by the semen of the other two, along with the blood.

When the last one had come with a great shudder and a cry, Mifune was grabbed up and dumped onto the ground. He was unable to stop his fall and his head struck something on the way down, some piece of furniture, he had no idea what.

He lay dazed and agonized for an unknown amount of time before he finally stirred. They had removed the handcuffs before leaving, and he was able to reach up and pull off the hood, spit out the gag. His mouth felt cottony from the fabric, and his throat hurt more than it had at any time when Giriko had tortured him.

He could feel that he was sticky between his legs, but he pulled his pants and underwear on over the mess. There was no time to shower, no time to pull himself together.

He was so late.

He could feel the chains around his neck and wrists writhing, and he knew Giriko must be angry. Over the week he had worn them, he had noticed that they sometimes shifted, tightened, or loosened without any reason, and he suspected that they unconsciously reflected Giriko's emotions in some way. As a result they had become a bit of a barometer for Giriko's moods and at the very least he could tell when the weapon was angry, which was at least marginally useful.

Now that sensation made his heart pound with fear and his stomach twist. He was late, he was _so_ late, and he didn't know how many lashes he'd earned. He was going to be in so much trouble.

He left the gag and hood behind on the floor, and didn't even look around himself to get his bearings. He yanked the door open and stumbled out into the hallway, limping from the pain and weaving a little. He was so dizzy, but he couldn't quite understand why. All he knew was that he had to get to Giriko's room as soon as he could.

He reached the door within a minute or two and leaned on it gratefully, knocking.

It was yanked open unexpectedly and he almost fell. Even as he was struggling to keep his feet, Giriko seized him by the hair and dragged him bodily into the room. The door slammed so hard it shook in its hinges.

"Fifty-six minutes," Giriko screamed. "Fifty-six _fucking_ minutes. What the _fuck_ is your excuse, this time? Angela needed a fucking bedtime story?"

God, Giriko wasn't just angry, he was _livid_.

"No...sir, I... I'm sorry..." Mifune stammered.

Giriko released him with a savage push towards the bedroom. "Get the fuck in there. Clothes off! Fifty-six lashes. Fuck! Honestly!"

Mifune stumbled obediently into the bedroom, fingers fumbling to undo the buttons, pulling off his shirt, leaving it where it lay. And then his pants; somehow he managed to get them off without stopping his forward progress or falling. He crawled onto the bed, gasping for breath, his heart pounding with terror.

This time. It would be this time. Thank goodness Bekko had said he'd take her.

He took hold of the headboard and bent low, not even waiting for the chains to bind him to it. And he shook.

But the first blow he anticipated never came. The chains didn't snake out to bind him to the headboard, and he didn't hear any sounds that suggested Giriko was fetching the crop or taking his own position behind him.

"What the fuck is this?" Giriko said finally, sounding stunned.

"S-sir?" Mifune whimpered, not knowing what Giriko wanted him to say, what he was asking.

"You're a fucking mess!" Giriko exclaimed. The mattress bowed as he sat down and he grabbed Mifune's arm, jerking him upright. "Look at me." Mifune shied away. "I said _look at me_!"

Mifune looked up into Giriko's eyes, which were wide and as angry as he had ever seen them. But when Giriko spoke, his voice was calm. "What happened, Mifune?"

There was something so dangerous about that calm. Mifune had never heard him sound like that. He'd always been quick to anger, the rage blowing in like a summer storm and back out again as quickly. But this made Mifune go cold all over.

"Someone grabbed me," he said, hearing his own voice tremble. He could barely talk, his throat was so raw. "When I was on my way here. There were three of them. They handcuffed me, and pulled me into a room. And...and they raped me. Sir."

"Who? Who grabbed you?" Giriko asked urgently. The hand on his arm had gentled and he was stroking Mifune's skin with his fingers as if to reassure himself that he was all there. He touched his arm, and then his chest, and then stroked his cheek and ran fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. He touched a spot on Mifune's forehead and the swordsman flinched as an unexpected jolt of pain went through him.

"I d-don't know," Mifune said, his voice hitching at that jolt of pain. He was so dizzy, so completely overwhelmed by the experience. "I never saw their faces, or any part of them. They were masked, like everyone in this godforsaken place. And they gagged me with a piece of cloth, and put a hood over my face before they did anything else."

He expected another explosion at any moment, but Giriko didn't shout again.

"Did they hit your head?" he asked in that same, low voice.

Mifune shook his head, then moaned as the world spun sickeningly. He closed his eyes for a moment, but that was worse, so he opened them again and focussed on Giriko's face once more. "No, when they were...were done, they threw me on the ground, and I think I hit my head on the way down." He swallowed. "I'm sorry I was late, sir."

Giriko snorted at this. "What the fuck," he said, and his tone sounded almost _affectionate_. "You really must be fucked up if you're apologizing for somethin' that ain't your fault."

"Are you going to kill me?" Mifune asked, the words slipping out without his conscious volition.

Giriko stared at him. "No," he said forcefully, his fingers tightening in Mifune's hair. "I'm gonna fucking kill the ones who _did_ this. Didn't I say your ass was mine?"

Mifune swallowed. "Yes, sir," he said softly. He knew he shouldn't feel so relieved, So...safe, like Giriko was going to protect him from the thugs who had hurt him. The sentiment was ludicrous. Giriko had been the one who had been torturing him for over a week. Giriko had raped him numerous times. Sure, he'd used lube, but so what?

Yet still Mifune wanted to curl his fingers in Giriko's shirt and cling the way Angela did to him when she had a bad nightmare.

Giriko sighed. "I need to get you sorted out before we do anything else. Get up." The words were unmistakeably an order, but it was said almost gently, and he curled his hand around Mifune's upper arm, standing up and pulling as Mifune struggled to his own feet.

Still holding his arm, Giriko steered Mifune into the bathroom, which adjoined his bedroom. Mifune had never been in here, but it looked just like his own, with shower, toilet and a small washing station with a basin.

"Hell, if I put you in the shower like this you're probably gonna pass out and hit your head again," Giriko grumbled. "Lean on the counter."

Mifune leaned, supporting himself on slightly trembling arms, while Giriko got the shower going and stripped off his own clothing. By now Mifune had seen Giriko naked, though the weapon usually preferred that Mifune be less clothed than he was. The man was scarred here and there from neck to toes, but Mifune wasn't paying attention to that. He was struggling just to keep himself upright. He could watch Giriko's movements behind him in the mirror and he focussed on that, rather than the sight of his own face. A knot was forming on his forehead, angry and red and with a spot of blood in the middle, and his face was utterly white.

The shower now running and beginning to steam, Giriko wrapped his arms around his waist and murmured into his ear. "You lean on me, now."

Mifune nodded, and moved with Giriko as they stepped into the shower.

The first hit of water was unexpectedly relaxing and his knees almost buckled. Giriko chuckled as Mifune sagged in his arms. "You gonna be able to stand up if I let go?"

"I..." Mifune pushed with his knees, trying to stand. "I'm dizzy," he admitted. He swallowed another apology. What was _wrong_ with him? It was one thing to give gratuitous apologies when Giriko was angry at him and he was trying to mollify him. It was another thing right now, when the asshole was being so gentle and pretending to care for some reason of his own.

"Yeah, that's a nasty hit," Giriko said wryly. "Okay, well there's just one thing to do."

Suddenly the chains around Mifune's wrists snaked, and his arms were yanked upwards. He gasped in surprise as the chains lashed around the showerhead and tightened, his arms up dragged over his head.

He gripped the showerhead, not sure if he should be grateful or nervous.

Giriko let go of him. "That's better," he said with rough satisfaction, and for a second Mifune was sure he was going to get back out, leave him to soak like this for a while, chained up. But instead Giriko grabbed a bar of soap.

"You sure ya didn't see anything that could identify the assholes who did this?" he growled, running lather-covered hands over Mifune's shoulders, and then down his back.

"I..." Mifune thought with all of his might. Had he seen anything? He was sure he hadn't, nothing useful. "I heard their voices," he said lamely. "And I suppose I saw the big one's Adam's apple earlier today."

Giriko let out a rough laugh. "His Adam's apple? You shittin' me?" He had wrapped his arms around Mifune and was rubbing his chest, and down his stomach. It was soothing, though Mifune didn't want to think so. He didn't want to find _anything_ Giriko did to him comforting. He was so sure that to think so was a complete lie. Giriko was just pissed off that his property had been fucked with.

"No, sir," Mifune said, the honorific coming to his lips automatically after more than a week of using it. "He accosted me earlier today, along with four others."

Giriko's hands tightened against his skin. "What the fuck? What happened?"

Mifune snorted. "I had my swords with me," he said, a tone of haughty disdain coming to his tone now. "I had no trouble, sir."

Giriko was silent for a few moments. His hands rubbed lightly at Mifune's groin, massaging it with the soap. Mifune felt himself stiffening once more in his hands and wondered if Giriko was going to mock him as the other men had, when he had started to harden at the first sign of rough treatment.

But he moved on from the area, making no comment.

"Well this is just fuckin'...well fuck," Giriko growled. "You belong to _me_ , damnit. I don't want every loser in this fuckin' place thinkin' they can have a piece of you."

Mifune wasn't surprised by this sentiment, and it also confirmed what he'd been thinking. Giriko's seeming concern was merely possessiveness of his own personal plaything.

"Yes, sir," he said softly. But either way, he wasn't sure if there was anything Giriko could _do_ about it.

The word was out now, and Mifune's future was looking bleaker by the moment. Would he have to endure this repeatedly now? Would he be ducking would-be rapists behind every corner? He doubted that Arachne would appreciate it if he killed any of them, let alone all of them, and if one had been successful, more could be.

Giriko bent to wash Mifune's legs. "I want ya to keep your sword on ya from now on," he said firmly. "No more leavin' it at home when you come to me. You can take it off when you get here."

 _This_ startled him, and Mifune stiffened, trying to twist around and look at Giriko, but he was bent over deeply, rubbing his hands over Mifune's calves. "Sir?"

"You don't understand what I said?" Giriko asked testily.

Turning back to face forward again, Mifune shook his head quickly. "No, I understand, sir," he said.

Giriko straightened and patted him on the hip. "It ain't like you're gonna attack me now," he said smugly. "You ain't broken yet, but you know the score, at least."

Mifune opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling against that idea. But Giriko was right. He wouldn't take the opportunity to attack him if he arrived at the room with his sword on his hip. The fact that he had it with him wouldn't change the fact that he'd accepted this as a necessary thing to be endured from the moment Arachne had given him to the weapon ten days before.

But he wasn't broken, either. He _wasn't_.

"No, sir," he said softly. "I won't attack you."

Giriko stood up and grabbed the soap again, lathering his hands up. "You're a good slave, Mifune," he said approvingly, and Mifune felt Giriko's lips press to the back of his neck. He lowered his head slightly. Kisses were rare, and approval rarer still.

And of course Giriko was trying to use this to make him feel more charitable towards him, heaping comfort upon him, pampering him. It was so transparent it would be pathetic if it didn't make his skin flush with warmth and relief.

He tried desperately to remain aloof.

Then as Giriko continued to kiss lightly at the back of his neck, Mifune felt his hand run up his inner thigh, and over his buttocks. He winced nervously, shying away from him, as the touch made his stomach twist and clench.

"Don't you dare," Giriko said darkly. His other hand came to rest on Mifune's stomach, holding him in place. "Who do you belong to?"

There was a nervous pause. He didn't want this. He didn't want this _now_.

"...You, sir," Mifune said finally.

Giriko's fingers were sliding into the crack of his ass, slick with soap. He rubbed up and down, then penetrated him with a finger. It was too slow to be a clinical touch, and the erection now pressing against Mifune's buttocks made it clear that his interest was aroused. He was cleaning the blood and semen from him, but it clearly wasn't just that.

"And if I wanna fuck you right now?" Giriko murmured languidly. "I got the right."

"It...it hurts," Mifune said, a little helplessly. He had bled, he knew, and even the penetration of a single finger made it clear how raw he was down there.

"You think I give a fuck?" Giriko asked. "You think I'm gonna mince around you now because you couldn't keep your legs shut with a bunch of thugs who woulda pissed themselves if they faced you with a weapon in your hand?"

"No, sir! But I didn't want to do it," Mifune said, horrified that Giriko might think this had been in any way consensual. Once again Giriko seemed to think that he was some kind of eager, panting slut. "I didn't. I fought them, but they handcuffed me, and I couldn't stop them."

"I don't _care_ what you want," Giriko said maliciously. "What I care about is that you know who you belong to. I don't want you even _remembering_ that they fucked you. When you walk and it hurts, I want it to be my cock you remember."

Mifune could hear that dangerous tone coming back into Giriko's voice. That tone that showed he was starting to get really irritated with him. And an irritated Giriko was definitely not something Mifune wanted to face right now.

"Then...then please fuck me, sir," Mifune said, forcing the words past numb lips. It was the _last_ thing he really wanted. What he really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. He wanted oblivion, for just a while.

"Is that what you want?" Giriko asked sharply. "You want me to fuck you, Mifune?" A second finger wormed its way into his body and slid in and out, spreading the soap. There was little resistance, but he was so raw as well.

He opened his mouth hastily to say yes, then hesitated. "It doesn't matter what I want, sir," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah..." All of the irritation had vanished in an instant from Giriko's voice and Mifune realized with relief that he had given the right answer. Of course, that wouldn't save him, and that was growing more and more obvious by the moment, as Giriko added a third finger, thrusting them deep into his body. "Yeah, that's right."

That hand on his stomach drifted down and began to rub at Mifune's groin, which was already somewhat stiff. "Though it looks like you _do_ want me to fuck you, anyway," Giriko added with a smirk obvious in his voice. "You said you didn't want them, is that true? Or are you still trying to pretend you ain't a whore?"

The memory of jeering laughter and a hand rubbing between his legs came back vividly. "I...I didn't want them," he stammered.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, Mifune," Giriko growled. "I know it when you lie." His fingers were stroking his cock in earnest now, and Mifune was starting to sweat and tremble in his grasp, the chain rattling against the metal showerhead.

Mifune whimpered. "I _didn't_ ," he insisted. "But I...I got a little hard when they first grabbed me. I don't know why."

"Good," Giriko said, and for a moment Mifune thought he meant it was good that he'd gotten hard, but he went on. "Don't you dare fuckin' lie to me again."

"Sorry, sir," Mifune murmured breathlessly.

"Anyway," Giriko growled. "Did you come while they were fucking you?"

" _No,_ " Mifune said, agony creeping into his voice.

Giriko sighed, so softly that Mifune almost didn't hear it over the rush of the water. "Good," he murmured, drawing his fingers out of Mifune's body. "You're mine, Mifune." And with a single, smooth thrust, he pressed deep into him.

Mifune couldn't stop a cry from escaping his throat. Pain rippled up his back again, but Giriko stroked his cock a bit faster, and the pain and pleasure began to spiral together, just as he had experienced during the training with the crop and the spankings.

Already shaky, Mifune was overwhelmed and didn't have a hope of censoring any of his reactions. At the second thrust his knees buckled as he let out another scream and the chains bit harshly into his wrists, but he managed to grab onto the showerhead again.

Giriko drove hard into him, pushing him forward against the cool tiled wall. Mifune cried out with each thrust, and after a moment Giriko grabbed his hip with his other hand, holding him steady and driving into him even harder. He could hear Giriko grunting softly at the force of each thrust.

Mifune couldn't think. He couldn't do anything but feel, and his mind was confused and disoriented from the combination of the injury and the overwhelming sensations. Giriko fucked him hard, possessively, and shocks of pleasure ran through Mifune's body with each long pull on his cock.

The pleasure wound tighter and tighter inside him and he began to whimper and writhe, pushing himself back against the penetration and then forward into the hand pleasuring him. It _did_ seem to drive the terrible memory further back, but perhaps only because he was so distracted by the immediacy of the feelings.

Suddenly he felt his body tighten and he cried out again. Jets of fluid spurted from him and spattered against the tile wall, and he shook and spasmed, hearing Giriko cry out just behind his ear. Giriko thrust hard into him one last time and he felt a rush of warmth as he released himself into Mifune's spasming body, followed by a stab of intense pain in his shoulder. He cried out, realizing that Giriko had just bitten down viciously into the meat of the muscle at the back of his shoulder, his razor sharp teeth slicing deeply into Mifune's skin.

Then finally, Giriko released him and drew out of his body. He sagged helplessly, his fingers numb and unable to hold his weight alone. Gasping and whimpering, sure that the chains on his wrists had to be cutting so deeply into his skin that he'd be bleeding, he struggled to get hold of himself. The water sluiced over him, washing away the last traces of blood, soap and semen.

With obvious unconcern for his welfare, Giriko reached around him and switched off the water. Mifune felt a soft towel rub over his skin quickly and struggled to get his feet under him again as Giriko started drying him off.

"Feel better?" Giriko asked, a note of malicious pride in his voice.

Mifune hesitated before answering, but found it was easy to tell the truth. "Yes, I guess so, sir," he said cautiously.

"Good, then you can dry me off, and then finish up yourself. You're the fuckin' slave after all." The chains suddenly released and the towel was draped over his head, cutting off his vision while Mifune struggled to keep his feet and his arms dropped as if lead weights were attached to them. His hands were a bit tingly, and his wrists throbbed, but as he awkwardly pushed the towel out of his face he was relieved to see that that his skin wasn't cut.

He took the towel and turned around. Giriko was standing just behind him, smirking with a distinct air of self-satisfaction, waiting.

Mifune took a step forward and raised the towel, rubbing at Giriko's skin and trying to decide if he wanted to feel resentful or not. It seemed ungrateful to be angry at Giriko for some reason, though if he thought about it objectively he realized that in fact Giriko hadn't done anything much he should be grateful for.

Certainly a normal person trying to help him wouldn't have finished off by raping him _again_.

He decided reluctantly that resentful was the way to go, and his lips thinned as he rubbed Giriko down from head to toe, kneeling on the wet tiles to do his legs. He was sure that if he didn't dry him thoroughly, Giriko would say something.

As he knelt, Giriko threaded his fingers through his wet hair absently, but he let go and stepped out of the shower, reaching for his clothes as soon as Mifune finished. The samurai got to his feet and finished drying himself off, still feeling a bit shaky, but at least the dizziness had gone.

His ass throbbed, though, deep inside. It wasn't quite painful anymore, but it was definitely _there_ , and he couldn't ignore it. And his shoulder actually hurt more, plus it was still bleeding. He couldn't see it no matter how he craned his neck, but he imagined he had a neat ring of puncture wounds.

Nice. He wondered if it would scar.

When he finished and stepped out of the shower, it was to find Giriko still waiting for him. Though it had only been perhaps a minute at most, Giriko gestured to him impatiently. "C'mon, I'm not gonna wait around all fuckin' day for you. You've made me wait enough today." And he turned to stalk out of the bathroom.

For a moment, as Mifune followed docilely in his wake, he worried that Giriko was now going to deliver the fifty-six lashes he had promised earlier.

But apparently he'd decided that the gang rape itself was punishment enough - either that or he had concluded that since Mifune hadn't intended to be late, he shouldn't be punished for it. He offered no explanation, and led Mifune right out to the main room, plunking himself down on the couch and grabbing his bottle of whiskey from the floor. It was almost empty, and Mifune recalled the state he'd been in when he had first arrived, almost beside himself with anger.

Had he been sitting here, drinking and watching the clock, getting more and more angry as the minutes ticked by? Mifune was almost certain of it.

Thinking that Giriko intended to do some work, Mifune made to kneel in his accustomed position on the floor, but the weapon gestured to him. "In my lap," he said.

Nodding, Mifune reversed his trajectory and sat sideways. Giriko grabbed him roughly with his free hand and pulled him down, until he was draped with his back against the arm of the couch, forced to encircle Giriko's neck with his arms like he had on previous occasions.

The position made the throbbing in his ass worse and it was impossible to ignore how very vulnerable he felt, off-balance and wondering what was going to come next. It certainly didn't seem that Giriko intended to give him any kind of break tonight, no matter what trauma he'd gone through. He'd only cleaned him up and reasserted his dominance and possession, and now it seemed the matter had been put to rest.

Giriko took a long draught from the bottle, then lowered it, resting the cool bottle in the centre of Mifune's chest as if he were a table. His fingernails clinked on the bottle as he tapped it thoughtfully, then took another drink.

Mifune struggled not to squirm at the touch of the cold glass, each time Giriko lowered it to rest on his skin. He didn't know what Giriko was waiting for, nor did he have any clue what he was thinking about. This was far worse than having to serve as a tool-fetcher for hours on end, in its way, because Mifune had _nothing_ to occupy himself other than watching Giriko's face for the smallest hint of what to expect.

Less even then a child or servant, right now Giriko seemed intent on making him feel like nothing more than furniture.

Finally the bottle was empty and Giriko dropped it onto the floor. It overturned and rolled, clinking against a tool or something else. Mifune couldn't see it, even if he'd tried to look.

"Yanno, I was thinkin'," Giriko said slowly. "Maybe I should ask Arachne-sama for a two-bedroom place."

Mifune stared up at him blankly as the weapon glanced down at him expectantly. "Oh really, sir?" he asked finally, with no clue what Giriko was getting at.

"Yeah," Giriko said. His fingers played restlessly on Mifune's knee. "You know it'd be a bitch to have Angela here, but at least you wouldn't have to worry about bein' late, or anythin' like that."

Now Mifune realized where Giriko was going with this and his whole body went cold. "Live with you, full time?" he blurted out, his voice strangling as his throat closed.

The thought was utterly horrifying. He was coping well enough, managing to keep himself together pretty well. Sure, one might think from the way he acted that he was slipping a bit - but it just didn't seem worth it to antagonize Giriko when he knew how strong his temper was, and it was fait accompli that he would obey in the end anyway. He was being polite and obedient, but he had _chosen_ to do that, to make things run more smoothly.

And for some reason he was starting to get aroused by the most perverted things, but that was just due to some weird kind of conditioning Giriko was subjecting him to. It didn't have anything to do with his _mind_.

But dealing with this all day, every day? Could his identity survive?

It was bad enough with the current arrangement. As it was he had to be here promptly every night, and he had not yet once left before morning, not a minute before Giriko had let him go. Generally Giriko either chained him to the headboard before going to sleep, or exhausted him so thoroughly that the weapon woke up first the following day.

To be forced to stay the rest of the day as well, degraded and belittled, not permitted even the simple pleasures of wearing clothing and sitting on a piece of furniture like a normal person...the very thought made his stomach twist. Would Giriko make him ask permission for everything? Or would he leave him well enough alone except during night hours? The former seemed far more likely.

And how could he possibly explain it to Angela? They wouldn't be able to hide what Giriko was doing to him if he were screaming in the next room.

He seized on that question with inspiration. He had opened his mouth to beg with all his heart not to be forced to stay with Giriko all day, but he knew that wouldn't work, and all that would do would be to make him angry. But _this_ was a solid objection.

"Sir, I...I think...How would we deal with Angela-sama?" he asked, stumbling his way through the best way to present his argument to the volatile asshole. "I mean, if she's in the next room, she'll hear, and she'll be upset if she hears me screaming. And I won't really be able to be naked like this in the common areas. It'll be really restrictive for you."

He swallowed. It was entirely possible that Giriko would simply say that the time had come for him to forget about his duty to Angela, and that was _not_ going to work for him. Surely Giriko saw that much. _Surely_. He would lose his only reason for maintaining his obedience to Giriko if he couldn't care for Angela anymore.

But just in case, he tentatively delivered one last salvo. "Aren't I pleasing you enough like this?"

Giriko let out an impatient breath, and grumbled something under his breath, then added, more loudly, "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" He growled the words, though there didn't seem to be any heat in his voice. Tension eased in Mifune's chest, but only a little.

The weapon leaned back and sighed. "I guess you've got a point. Fuck. Why'd ya have to come packaged with the little snot rag anyway?"

Mifune hesitated, then said, a little wryly. "Because if I didn't have her, I wouldn't have any reason to obey you, sir." He held his breath, hoping he hadn't misstepped too badly.

The fingers on his knee paused, and then Giriko's hand clenched into a fist. "Yeah. And fuck you," he growled.

"Sorry, sir," Mifune said.

"No you're fuckin' not."

"No, sir," Mifune conceded softly.

Giriko sighed, then gave him a sharp prod in the ribs. "Get up and get dressed."

That was such an unprecedented order that it took Mifune a moment to convince himself that he hadn't misunderstood. He blinked up at Giriko, but at a second prod, he shifted and got up awkwardly, then moved quickly to retrieve his clothing.

"Forget the underwear," Giriko called after him. "They're a mess anyway, and it's not like you need it."

His cheeks flaming, Mifune nodded and headed into the bedroom, emerging moments later with his pants on and blood-soaked underwear thrown into Giriko's overflowing laundry hamper. He would have liked to burn it, but he couldn't exactly do that this instant and he didn't want to just leave it lying around, either.

His shirt was on the floor between the bedroom and the front door, and he bent to pick it up, pulling the sweatshirt over his head.

The chain around his neck shifted suddenly and a long end extended outwards. Giriko walked towards him as the end formed into a loop, and caught it in his fingers. It snaked around his _own_ wrist and seemed to meld with his skin, becoming a part of him.

"Come on," he said, and tugged on the leash as he headed towards the door.

Mifune balked immediately, though the chain pulled sharply on his neck. "W-wait, I mean..." he exclaimed. "You want to bring me outside like this? Uh, sir," he finished belatedly.

Giriko gave him a look. "It's not like they don't already _know_ ," he snarled. "Didn't that get proven already tonight?"

Mifune stared at the door like it was going to leap forward and bite him if he got any closer. Giriko was right, but it wasn't at all the same thing. It was one thing to walk proudly through the corridors alone, hearing the jeers and ignoring them. It was entirely something else to be led like a dog by his master, at heel.

"But...but..." he protested faintly.

"You gonna give me trouble tonight after all?" Giriko snarled testily. "Ten lashes unless you get your feet moving right the fuck now."

"Giriko, please--"

" _Twenty_ , and another five for using my fuckin' name, slave."

Mifune took a reluctant step forward, then another. Giriko growled audibly and yanked open the door, hauling on the chain hard enough that it tightened and bit into Mifune's throat. He gagged and quickened his steps, and it loosened immediately.

His heart pounded so hard as they walked down the hall that he fancied it was audible to the few people they passed. There weren't many at this late hour - it was almost midnight by now - but there was never really a time in Baba Yaga's castle that no one was up and about.

Any of the people who walked by could have been one of the men who raped him, that was the worst part. Mifune kept his head down, maintaining pace with Giriko, a step or two behind him. It wasn't even a conscious decision on his part, but he wasn't about to take the lead when he didn't know where he was going, and he was far too ashamed and humiliated to lift his head.

It didn't occur to him until a few moments later that he must make the perfect picture of the broken slave. He hadn't even thought or had time to put shoes on before leaving the apartment, so he walked barefoot on the smooth, cool stone.

But they'd hardly gone a dozen steps down the hall before Giriko stopped. Mifune paused as well and looked up at Giriko turned towards him and gestured around. "Where did it happen, huh?"

"What?" Mifune asked blankly before realizing what Giriko was getting at. "You mean, where was I attacked, sir?"

"Yeah, of course," Giriko sneered. "You're really out of it tonight, Mifune. Well?"

 _Maybe I'm out of it because I got raped by four people, one right after the other,_ Mifune thought uncharitably. The last thing he wanted to do was relive the experience and he couldn't imagine why Giriko wanted to drag him out here to show him the location.

He looked around for a moment, then gestured down the hallway. "It was this way," he said slowly, and started down the hall once more, trying to remember exactly how far he'd gotten. Giriko trailed him easily, hands in his pockets, the chain still running from his wrist to Mifune, but giving him quite a lot of leeway.

Finally Mifune paused and took his bearings once more, thinking hard. "Yes, I think this was the place," he said. Just past the turning, and before that place where the light had burned out overhead. He seemed to recall this was it.

"Okay, good," Giriko said, glancing around thoughtfully. "So what happened?" His lips spread in a malicious smirk. "I want ya to tell me _everything_ , Mifune. Relive it for me."

Mifune's stomach churned. He couldn't think of anything he'd like to do less. Relive the event? He'd much rather forget it ever happened.

But he did as he was told.

"I...was walking along here," he said, trying to place himself in the exact position he was in. "And someone grabbed my left arm, right here." He lifted his hand and touched the place on his upper arm. "I hadn't been paying close attention to my surroundings, and I looked up to see the big man who had accosted me earlier."

"Thought you said you couldn't see him," Giriko said sharply.

"He was wearing the mask, both times," Mifune explained hastily. "But I heard his voice, and I saw his build. I knew it was the same man. Someone grabbed my other arm as well, and the big man punched me in the stomach. My arms were pinned behind my back. They handcuffed me." Trembling, he drew both of his arms behind his back, holding his wrists together in demonstration. He half-expected Giriko to make the chains on his wrists actually bind him, but the chains lay quiescent for the moment. Giriko was watching him with close interest, and he nodded with approval.

"They stuffed some fabric in my mouth to gag me, and put a hood over my head, so I couldn't see," Mifune went on, his voice growing fainter as the memories assaulted him vividly. "And then they dragged me into a room."

Giriko frowned again suddenly. "Which room?"

Mifune hadn't been able to see where he was going when they pulled him into the room, and he hadn't been in any fit state to get his bearings when he came back out. So he was at a loss for a moment. He looked around. "I...I'm not sure."

"Well you better _get_ sure. I said relive it, remember?" Giriko said caustically.

Mifune's heart was pounding again. Was he going to rape him in the room? Was this some kind of sick roleplaying fantasy?

"I...I..."

"Mifune," Giriko growled warningly.

Mifune looked around wildly, trying to think. He had been dragged backwards, but at an angle, and it hadn't been far at all. "I think this one," he said, turning and moving to a nearby door. If it was the right one, he had certainly not locked it when he left.

He grabbed the doorknob and twisted. The knob rotated easily in his hand and he pushed it open.

The fact that it was unlocked was something, but it wasn't conclusive. For a moment he had no idea if this really was the room or not, but then he saw a little bundle of black fabric on the floor, next to a table. "This is the one," he said with mingled relief and trepidation.

Giriko came up behind him and grabbed him by the upper arm, propelling him into the room against his will. Mifune dragged his feet a little, staring at the table with revulsion. That was the table they had pushed him down onto to rape him, and there was the end table near the couch, where he had likely knocked his head as he went down.

"They bent me over that table," he said in a strained voice. "And...and they pulled down my pants. I d-don't know which one did me first--"

"Stop," Giriko said sharply. "That's enough. Christ."

He released Mifune's arm and walked across the room, the chain lengthening as he walked away, leaving Mifune in the centre of the room. Giriko bent and picked up the fabric on the floor.

Giriko inspected the items for a moment, then glanced at Mifune. "Is this the stuff they put on ya? The gag and hood?" he asked, holding it up. At Mifune's nod, he rolled it up into a bundle and shoved it deep into his pocket, then straightened and turned back to him again.

"Did ya leave anything else behind? Anything else they put on ya?" he asked.

Mifune shook his head mutely, unable to speak. Giriko had saved the gag and hood. Giriko had put them in his pocket.

Perhaps he was starting to understand the way Giriko thought after all. He was almost certain the other man planned to use those items on him again, to let him relive the brutal rape, only with Giriko.

"Okay, let's get outta here," Giriko said roughly, reeling in the chain to force Mifune to stand closer to him and jerking his head towards the open door.

Mifune followed him in numb horror.

He was honestly too distracted to pay attention to where they were going now. He had assumed they would go back to Giriko's suite, but they walked and walked, and when Giriko finally stopped, he lifted his head and looked around dazedly for a moment before he realized where they were.

They were in a hallway, just outside Arachne's web chamber.

"Why are we--" he started softly, but Giriko literally grabbed him, covering his mouth with his hand and digging his thumb and fingers into his cheeks to stop him talking.

"Shut the fuck up for once and just listen," he growled. At Mifune's frightened nod he let go, but his eyes were no less fierce. The spots where he'd gripped him throbbed.

"I know you ain't broken yet, but if you do _anything_ to fuckin' embarrass me in there I will fuckin' beat you like any punishment you've had before was just a coupla love taps, got it?" Giriko glared at him. Mifune's lips were pressed together in a thin line and he nodded, once, his heart pounding. The welts on his shoulders gave a twinge as if in reminder.

"Arachne-sama gave you to me when I asked because she wanted me to break ya, so you be good. Unless you want to end up being given to someone worse than me. She don't trust you," Giriko went on roughly.

A response seemed needed, so Mifune nodded again. "Yes, sir," he said, very softly. Even in his current state, this news was staggering. Giriko had indeed asked for Mifune to be given to him as some kind of slave, but _Arachne_ had also specifically wanted him broken. Perhaps she had taken the unlooked-for opportunity presented to make him more tractable and controlled, or perhaps she had planned to give him to _someone_ sooner or later all along and Giriko was merely the first one to express interest.

Giriko drew a breath and let it out, then caught Mifune with one hand at the back of his neck, rubbing just above the collar with his thumb. It might have been a soothing gesture if Mifune's entire body wasn't numb with shock and horror. And if Mifune had had the capacity to believe that Giriko was capable - or even wanted - to be soothing.

"You keep your eyes _down_ , just like ya are now. Kneel before she tells ya to, and don't say shit unless you're specifically talked to. I'll do all the talking, got it? And if ya really need to do anything, you _ask me_ first," Giriko instructed him in a low, urgent voice. "Better to beg, in fact, not just ask."

Mifune was definitely getting the chilling picture. "I'll pretend to be broken, sir," he said hollowly.

"Damn right," Giriko said, squeezing with that hand at the back of Mifune's neck. "Just remember, I don't want any of your lip, or it's going to be fucking _dire_."

"I...I've got it, sir," Mifune said.

Giriko released him and turned away, moving towards the big double doors that led into the web chamber. The chain was still looped around his wrist, though, and it tugged lightly on Mifune's throat as the swordsman dragged his feet slightly.

He didn't have to pretend to be terrified as he followed in Giriko's wake. Why had Giriko brought him here?

There was a strong suspicion forming - that Giriko was going to try to do away with the bond between Mifune and Angela. Perhaps he was going to ask Arachne for some special kind of living arrangement that would keep them separated, but in such a way that Angela would continue to be hostage to his good behaviour. Mosquito had once already demonstrated that that wasn't difficult to do.

He didn't know what he was going to do if Giriko started making arrangements like that while he knelt on the floor beside him. Was that why he'd emphasized so much that Mifune was to be quiet and obedient - to try to forestall any violent objections?

There was no way he could stand for it, but what would he do if it happened? What _could_ he do? His swords were a million miles away if they were a yard, and against both Arachne and Giriko he certainly could do nothing unarmed and chained up.

And Giriko had to know that he would fight tooth and claw for Angela. So if this was his plan, it was certain that he wouldn't give Mifune a chance to do anything to stop it from happening.

Abruptly he realized that they had walked a long distance through the echoing chamber, and Giriko had come to a stop. Mifune had almost run into him, but his reflexes stood him in good stead and he stopped instantly.

He almost, _almost_ looked up to see if Arachne was sitting in her web high over their heads, but he remembered just in time. Swallowing bile, he knelt down just beside and a pace behind Giriko and bowed his head. He wasn't actually prostrate, but his head was bowed deeply and his hair fell forward to shadow his face. All the better to help him resist the urge to look up angrily, regardless of what was said.

The chains around his wrists snaked and yanked his hands back, lacing together to bind his wrists together at the small of his back. This only confirmed his worst fears, and he swallowed hard.

"Giriko," Arachne purred. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She spoke as if Mifune wasn't even there.

"Arachne-sama, I gotta talk to ya," Giriko said easily, though there was a subtle tension in his voice. "We got a problem."

"Oh? Do tell," Arachne said, a lilt of surprise in her voice. "What sort of problem?"

"Yeah well, my slave here--" He nudged Mifune ungently with his foot and Mifune struggled not to react, as if he were used to such treatment. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. "--he got attacked tonight when he was comin' to attend me. Got attacked by three of our own, and raped."

This wasn't at all what Mifune thought he was going to say, and he started visibly, before quickly resuming his hopeless stance. His heart was pounding for another reason now. What was going on?

There was a short pause. "Raped?" Arachne repeated in tones of surprise. Giriko's fingers were threading through Mifune's still-damp hair, a subtle pressure on the back of his skull, keeping his head down. Not that he really needed the reminder right now.

Arachne chuckled, low. "Surely not, Giriko. How _is_ his training going, by the way? He does look docile, though I notice when he's out of your presence he's quite functional, still. I see him training half of every day."

Mifune tensed, if possible, still further. She had _hired_ him as a bodyguard. Had she really wanted him to be broken so badly that all he was good for was acting as a pleasure slave?

Giriko's tone was casual. "Yeah, it's good, real good. He's still got a bit of fire left, but he does what he's told well enough. I'm real grateful to ya, Arachne-sama, lettin' me have him."

"You more than deserve it, Giriko," she said in dulcet tones. "I've noticed that you're much happier of late, yourself."

There was a short pause, and Giriko sounded strangely embarrassed when he replied. "Yeah, well. Sure I am."

"I do know your tastes, Giriko," the witch said with smug amusement. "But do go on. When do you think his training will be completed?"

"Oh, it's already pretty close," Giriko said hastily. "I mean, I think he's pretty much broken now. No way he'd dare run, or do anythin' against me. Ain't that right, slave? You like belongin' to me, right?"

The last words were pointedly directed at Mifune and he hesitated for a moment, remembering Giriko's instructions and hastily reviewing them to make sure he responded properly. Giriko hadn't said he should talk in any particular way, other than begging if he wanted something, so he merely said, "Oh, yes, sir," in a faintly enthusiastic tone, though it was tinged with nervousness.

"See? He ain't the same man," Giriko said with pride. " _And_ I think my plan worked. I think he can still fight for ya, Arachne-sama. I mean, he's only this way around me, and he can still fight. Like you said, he's still practicin' and all, and he ain't gonna forget how to use his swords just because he's accepted that he's a submissive little whore." That last was said almost affectionately, and Mifune couldn't repress a shudder.

"You do make a point," Arachne said. "And I am pleased if we can have the best of both worlds - if he can be both docile and useful to our cause at the same time. You did argue most vociferously to allow him to be at liberty during the day."

Mifune started once again, and Giriko's hand pressed warningly against the back of his head. Giriko had _argued_ that he be allowed to be free during the day? But hadn't he just been saying earlier today that he wanted Mifune around him full-time?

"Yeah, so ya see it's workin' out. But see that's where the problem is," Giriko said, as if he'd been leading the conversation around to this point all along. "Like I said, some stupid assholes got it in their heads that just 'cause Mifune's broken, that means he's fair game to anyone in the castle."

"Well Giriko, you can't very well expect to break him and then not have him respond to his training. That was my objection from the start," Arachne said, both patiently and affectionately.

"That ain't what I meant!" Giriko said, his tone gaining an edge, though he was still deferential towards his mistress. "He knows he only belongs to me. I broke him that way on purpose. Hell, he don't even know he's broken yet. He fought them, but couldn't fight 'em off because they jumped him when he wasn't armed."

Mifune's mind was whirling. He didn't _know_ he was broken? But no, no, this was all just part of the act. Giriko was making up bullshit to try to explain how Mifune could both fight and be a tractable slave at the same time.

Arachne's voice was serious. "I see. Your skill in this area is impressive, Giriko. So what is the problem, exactly?"

Giriko's hand fisted in Mifune's hair hard enough to pull and hurt. "The problem is that he's _mine_ ," he hissed. "I been trainin' him the way I want. I been spendin' all the effort on him. And I ain't interested in seein' every asshole with a hardon usin' my property, fucking it up for me."

"Ahh...quite reasonable," Arachne said softly. "So who was it who did the damage? If we make an example of them, it should discourage others."

"Yeah that's what I was thinkin'," Giriko said, relaxing noticeably. "But the thing is, I don't know who did it. Mifune didn't see 'em, he only heard their voices. I told ya it's fucking stupid to make all your minions wear masks," he added, the last sentence said so low that only Mifune heard it.

Before Arachne could reply, Giriko rummaged in the pocket of his coat and pulled out the hood and gag. "But this shit belongs to them. They used it when they raped him. I thought maybe you could find them with this?"

There was a short silence. "...Yes, I think perhaps I can," Arachne said thoughtfully. She sounded intrigued. "Place it on the floor so I can examine it."

Giriko's hand left Mifune and he took a couple of steps forward, then laid the pieces of black cloth on the ground. Spiders scuttled down the strands of the huge web Arachne was perched comfortably on, crawling over the floor. They darted in and out of the folds of the cloth while Arachne muttered an incantation.

Mifune saw several dozen of the spiders break away from the group and scuttle towards him. He wasn't squeamish as a rule, but he was feeling somewhat vulnerable at the moment, and he tensed as they crawled up over his knees onto his thighs.

Giriko's hand dropped to his shoulder. "Don't you move," he murmured warningly. "Be good now."

The swordsman bit his lip, struggling to hold very still as the spiders crawled under the hem of his shirt and he could feel their legs scuttling over his stomach. His skin crawled but his fists clenched behind his back and he went as rigid as he could.

But then one of them crawled down into his _pants_ , down between his legs, and he let out an involuntary cry of revulsion.

"Giriko, silence him!" Arachne snapped, and Mifune suddenly felt Giriko's fist connect with the back of his head. He sprawled forward onto the ground, dazed, and felt more spiders crawl over his skin, penetrating his clothing to explore the most intimate parts of his body.

Then they all withdrew, crawling out of his clothes and flowing back in a great black river towards their mistress. Giriko grabbed Mifune, one hand in his hair, the other fisted in the back of his shirt, and hauled him back onto his knees.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mifune gasped, struggling to steady himself. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Giriko growled, and Mifune closed his mouth with a snap.

"You still have a bit of work to do, Giriko," Arachne said, watching this over her fan as the spiders merged back into her.

"Yes, Arachne-sama. Sorry," Giriko said. Mifune could feel his glare burning into him and he hunched a little more. The second blow to the head hadn't done him any favours and he was dizzy again, the back of his head _and_ his forehead throbbing.

He did have to wonder what the point of that disgusting exercise had been, too. But he didn't have to wait long for the answer.

Arachne was quiet for a few moments, but Mifune was pretty sure he could hear her muttering incantations. "Ah yes, I can definitely identify them now," she said when she was finished. "Only two of them touched the fabric. However, though I see he's washed up, traces of all three of them were still left in the slave, and I've separated the scent of them from yours and his. Still, it was lucky. If you'd been smarter you'd have brought him right to me, Giriko rather than letting him wash all traces of his assailant off."

 _Oh my god,_ Mifune thought, his stomach turning with revulsion. There was so much wrong with what Arachne had said that he couldn't even count them all. No wonder the spiders had touched him so intimately, but the idea that there were still traces inside him that Arachne had been able to detect made his skin crawl all over.

Not only that, but the idea of being dragged here still bleeding and a complete mess both emotionally and physically, right after the brutal rape, was completely unthinkable. He was almost grateful to Giriko for having spared him that.

"Well, guess I'll remember that for next time, Arachne-sama," Giriko said, and all traces of gratitude vanished from Mifune's mind. "If there is a next time. But hopefully not, right?"

"Hmm...yes," Arachne said in a distracted tone. Spiders were flowing across the floor towards them again in a great wave, and Mifune tensed. But this time the wave split and went around them, heading for the door at the far end of the hall, and slowly he relaxed. Presumably these spiders were going to fetch the culprits.

They waited in silence for a few moments, but Giriko was always restless. Arachne seemed content to be quiet, however Giriko fidgeted and finally moved away to rest against a pillar. For a moment Mifune was relieved to feel alone and unencumbered, unable to see anyone, and therefore wrapped in the illusion that no one was looking down on him or requiring anything of him. He closed his eyes and tried to will the dizziness away.

But then Giriko tugged lightly on the leash connecting them. "C'mere."

Mifune was at a loss for a moment, and he looked up at Giriko questioningly, trying to convey with his eyes that he wasn't sure he could get up with his hands tied behind his back after that blow to the head without falling flat on his face.

Giriko glared at him. "I said c'mere."

The samurai was certain Arachne was watching this exchange and he desperately struggled to figure out how to convey the problem without making Giriko even angrier at him than he already was. "I...I'm sorry, sir," he said in his meekest and most deferential tone. "Please, I need help getting up."

Giriko blew out a breath in exasperation. Suddenly the bonds around Mifune's wrists loosened and released. "You can crawl, then. That's all you're good for, anyway. Fuckin' useless."

Relieved, Mifune crawled on all fours across the polished tile floor to Giriko, his head down and his hair hanging in his face. He struggled to ignore his knowledge that Arachne was still watching all of this, looking down on them from above with her calculating eyes. If he just focussed on pleasing Giriko, everything else would fall into place.

He paused just in front of him and sat up in seiza once more, but Giriko tugged on the leash again. "Closer."

With no idea what Giriko wanted, Mifune scooted obediently forward until the pressure around his neck eased. He was right in front of Giriko now, and the other man put a hand to his cheek, drawing him closer still until his head came to rest against his hip and thigh.

It was a strange, almost affectionate position, as if Mifune were a beloved pet resting his head against Giriko's leg. With his head positioned where Giriko wanted and his weight resting against him, Giriko's hand began to move, petting his hair once more. Mifune found it strangely relaxing, and he closed his eyes, content to wait like this.

"I will say this," Arachne commented after a few moments. "He's obedient, and I'd say even adoring. You've done very well with him in a short time."

Mifune stiffened faintly. Adoring? Arachne thought that he _adored_ Giriko? He loathed him with every fibre of his being - even moreso than he had before this whole ordeal had started with that blowjob.

Giriko rumbled a laugh. "Yeah...I dunno about adoring yet, Arachne-sama. But he's had a rough night and I've been pretty loose with him because of it. Think he's gettin' to like me, at least, since he knows I don't always gotta be stern."

"Yes, well, don't spare the discipline, though," Arachne said severely. "He'll think he can get away with things and we'll be back to square one."

Mifune loathed how they talked about him, not only as if he were a stupid animal, but as if he either couldn't hear him or didn't have the capacity to comprehend their speech.

Giriko snorted, his fingernails scraping lightly down the back of his neck. "Yeah, don't you worry, Arachne-sama. I've been doing this a long time. I know what I'm doin'."

"I'm sure you do," Arachne said with a lilt in her voice. "As I said, you've done well with him. I'm very impressed."

"And you'll be even more impressed in a coupla months I'm sure," Giriko said with a smirk audible in his voice. "You won't recognize him by then, and the conditioning will have really settled in. Right now it's not so permanent."

Mifune shuddered faintly, but found himself pressing closer to Giriko's leg automatically, and wondered at the reaction. He set it aside a moment later, deciding it meant nothing. It wasn't as though he looked to Giriko for reassurance. That was ludicrous, especially given that it was Giriko's own words that were making him shudder.

It was just that Giriko was the only one here, and in Mifune's current mood, even twisted comfort was better than none at all.

Besides, if there _was_ one thing he liked that Giriko did to him, it was the stroking of his hair. Giriko loved to have his fingers in Mifune's hair, that much had become obvious, and it did feel good when it did it. Except when he used it like a leash and dragged him around by his hair by anger, which he also did from time to time.

He was interrupted in his musings by the doors at the end of the hall opening. Aware of the role he had to play by now, Mifune merely tensed but didn't look around. He pressed his head slightly into Giriko's thigh as he heard three sets of footfalls come trotting towards them.

"Ah yes, gentlemen," Arachne said sweetly. "You're just the ones I wanted. Come, come closer." A tide of spiders rushed past Mifune and Giriko towards Arachne again, leading the three men onwards.

From this angle, Mifune could just see the men's legs as they passed. He couldn't move his head much without dislodging Giriko's hand, but he watched as best he could, trying to judge if they were the right people.

"Now then," Arachne said. "I hear there was an incident tonight, and Giriko has come to me with a complaint. Giriko?"

"Yeah," Giriko said lazily. He continued to lean against the column, his fingers in his slave's hair, and Mifune well imagined what he must look like. Completely secure in the knowledge that he had these men right where he wanted them. "Seems the three of you decided to have a little fun with _my_ slave without inviting me along."

Mifune tensed. _Inviting him along_? That wasn't at all the point!

"Giriko-sama, I...I assure you that we haven't done anything to him," one of them said hastily. "We definitely didn't mean any disrespect to you. He...he accosted us earlier today, and I knocked him down. But he was holding a sword to Patel's neck, sir."

"Oh?" Giriko said thoughtfully. "Is that how he got the knot on his forehead?"

There was a pause. "Uh, yeah, that's right," the same man said. It wasn't the big one, and Mifune - somewhere behind the white-hot anger at his lies - wondered if he had been appointed the spokesperson because he could think better on his feet.

He struggled to remember if he had heard this man's voice before, since he'd scarcely heard the voices of the other two men who'd attacked him. It did seem familiar, and given the potency of Arachne's magic he had little doubt that these were the right men, anyway.

"And you fucked him, because...?" Giriko said. "I mean, not like I can blame you. I fuck him pretty often myself." He laughed, and the other three joined in, their own laughter a bit tremulous and high-pitched.

Mifune could feel himself shaking with rage. He had to clamp his teeth shut on the desire to shout at them all, to declare definitively that they had been the ones, and demand an explanation for why they were all standing around laughing about it. He half wondered if Giriko had changed his mind about Mifune being exclusively his and had decided to let these three in on the party.

Then suddenly Giriko's laughter stopped. "Well?" he asked dangerously. "So why did ya fuck him?"

"I didn't," one of them said hastily. "I...I don't know what any of this is about."

And then the most familiar voice cut in. "Well I did, and so did you, Thom, don't deny it." That was the big man, Mifune was sure of it. "He attacked me earlier today, like Roland said, and then we ran into him in the hall later on. He got down on his knees and begged me, saying he had never been fucked by three at once, and I asked him what the fuck he was on about! Obviously I wasn't gonna touch your property, but then he told me you'd ordered him to do it, as some kind of punishment."

Shaking, Mifune craned his neck upwards just a bit, trying to see the man more clearly without making it obvious that he was no longer obediently keeping his eyes lowered. Patel had his hands spread in a helpless gesture as he spun his bullshit tale. "So my friends and I obliged him. If he lied to me, well... I'm really sorry, sir. I swear I had no idea. If there's some way I can make it up to you, sir... But he's a lying slut if he tells you it was rape."

There was a short silence as Mifune screamed inwardly for Giriko not to believe that pack of lies.

Yet it was exactly the sort of thing Giriko _would_ believe. Hadn't he constantly been saying that Mifune was nothing but a whore, that he'd spread his legs eagerly in an instant if someone beckoned him? It seemed certain that Giriko would believe that now that he'd broken some of Mifune's barriers, gotten rid of that illusion of dignity, that Mifune would give in to this sluttish nature he believed he possessed.

"That's a likely story," Giriko said, and Mifune's fists clenched into tight fists. A soft sound of negation bubbled up in his throat and he opened his mouth to say something, to convince Giriko that he was wrong! It wasn't likely at all!

But before he could say anything, Giriko grabbed Mifune by the chin and forced his head up. "Hey, you look at these guys and tell me. They the ones who did it to you?" Giriko ordered. "One of 'em denied it. What do you think?"

Mifune didn't even need to look, but he didn't resist Giriko's pull, even though it stretched his neck painfully. "It's them, sir," he said with a bit of difficulty. Giriko's hand was making it hard to open his jaw. "I swear it's them, and I didn't. I didn't ask them to do it. I didn't lie to you." He could hear the plea in his voice and didn't try to censor it. It would serve him in this situation.

"Well now," Giriko said, releasing him. "Now we've got the word of my slave against the three of you fine gentlemen. What do you think, Arachne-sama?"

"Hmm?" Arachne sounded bored. "I think you're doing just fine on your own, Giriko. Carry on."

"Well...like you said, sir," Patel said. "We're three loyal subjects of Arachne-sama, and he's just a little piece of filth. You wouldn't take his word against ours. So may we go?"

"Not yet," Giriko said. "See, my slave might be a piece of filth, but there's one thing I know. I know I've trained him not to lie to me, and he's far too fucking scared of me to lie. I _know_ it when he lies, since he gets all shaky and stutters."

Mifune pursed his lips angrily at this assessment, but then of course, Giriko called everyone's attention to him again. "Ain't that right? You don't lie to me, do you?" he asked jovially. "You know what happens when you lie."

"Y-yes, sir," Mifune said weakly. Though he tried to tell himself that the tone was an act, it was true that Giriko seemed to see through his lies easily, and had never tolerated it. Even if they were comfortable lies, words that Mifune was sure Giriko wanted to hear.

"So you see?" Giriko said triumphantly. "I'll take the word of my slave, who knows his fuckin' place, over three piles of dog shit who think that they can just go around sticking their dicks in someone else's property without a by-your-leave."

"G-Giriko-sama--" Patel stammered, but Giriko talked over him.

"So what should we do with these guys, Arachne-sama? You got any ideas?"

"Well," Arachne said. Before she had sounded bored, but amusement now tinged her tone. "We already decided we'd make an example of them, to ensure this doesn't happen again. You can leave them with me, Giriko, and go. They can stay in the dungeons for now and we'll keep them alive, as feed for Mosquito. We can hang their carcasses one by one somewhere public as he finishes with each one of them - that should make sure that everyone remembers for a very long time."

"W-what...what?" Patel was stammering. "A-Arachne-sama, please. It...it was just--"

"Thank you, Arachne-sama," Giriko said, and gave Mifune's leash a sharp tug as he turned to go.

With the use of his hands to balance himself, Mifune was able to get to his feet without the difficulty he had feared before. The dizziness was starting to ease, anyway, and he walked without a problem, following Giriko up the chamber towards the far doors as the three men began to cry pleas for mercy up at their mistress.

When they stepped through the doors and they closed tightly behind them, it cut the sounds of their screams off like a knife.

Mifune followed Giriko docilely down the hall, scarcely thinking at all now about how he looked being led along by a chain. He couldn't believe all that had just happened - that Giriko had actually taken his part, and that the three men who had hurt him were going to be punished so severely for their transgression that he felt reasonably sure no one else would dare to follow their example.

Of course, he reminded himself that Giriko had done it for selfish reasons. He was just jealous of his property and had been pissed off that someone other than himself had dared to use and damage Mifune's body without his permission.

But it didn't really matter _why_ he'd done it. The fact was that he _had_ done it and Mifune was safe again. Safer.

He started at his own thought. Of course he wasn't safe! He still had Giriko to contend with, after all.

At that moment Giriko paused and took out his key to let them into his suite, interrupting the flow of Mifune's thoughts. They stepped inside and the chain finally detached from Giriko's wrist, coiling back up and leaving Mifune wearing only a simple collar once more.

"Strip," Giriko said, baring his teeth in a grin at Mifune. "Now that we're done showin' you off to Arachne-sama and half the castle, you don't need clothes anymore. And kneel down, I wanna talk to ya."

Mifune twitched, hating the reminder. But his hands were moving to obey almost before Giriko had made the order, and he lifted the sweatshirt over his head again, then lowered his pants as well and stepped out of them. Giriko watched him do it, his eyebrows creased with thought.

"Ya did good in there," Giriko said roughly once Mifune had finished taking off his clothing and sank down to a kneeling position right where he was, ready for further instructions. "A bit wobbly there, at one point, and I had to correct you. But I think if you hadn't made _any_ mistakes she woulda thought you and I were conspiring together or something and I hadn't been trainin' you at all." He let out a chuckle and reached for Mifune, putting his hand to the back of his neck again and rubbing with his thumb. "It's way too early for you to be perfectly trained, even by me," he finished. "So ya did good."

He did not feel a flush of pleasure at the rare praise. He did _not_. If anything, he was just relieved that Giriko wasn't mad at him anymore.

"I'm glad that I pleased you, sir," he said. Giriko looked at him narrowly and Mifune flushed, averting his gaze, ashamed that the words had been sincere and nervous that Giriko would think he was lying again.

Apparently Giriko didn't think so, because he went on instead of calling him on it. "Yeah, so I got a problem. You see, by my count you've earned a good eighty-one lashes tonight, and that don't even count the fact that you didn't stay still and quiet when Arachne-sama was lookin' ya over with her spiders."

The glow was replaced by a chill with the suddenness of a slap to the face. "S-sir, that many?" he gasped.

"Yeah, well," Giriko said, shrugging. "Consistency and all that. I can't promise punishment and not follow through, you'll think ya can get away with stuff."

"I'm not an animal," Mifune blurted out desperately. "Please, sir, haven't I been punished enough tonight?"

"No, you _ain't_ an animal," Giriko said wryly. "You're a human being, and one I'm tryin' to teach somethin' you don't wanna learn."

Mifune had no answer to that. He hunched his shoulders and bit his lip sharply.

"I guess I'll round it off to an even ninety, addin' in the mistake in the web chamber. But, I don't know if you can take that much yet with the crop," Giriko conceded.

"It'll kill me, sir," Mifune murmured shakily. "Please sir, please don't do it."

"Well, I dunno about _that_ ," Giriko said, rolling his eyes. "I think you're tougher than that, Mifune. But maybe we can figure somethin' out, you and me. Come to some kinda arrangement."

Mifune looked up sharply, searching Giriko's expression. He felt small and vulnerable on the floor like this, Giriko towering over him. But he forced himself to speak.

"I don't understand. What I want doesn't matter."

Lord, how easily the phrase had slipped out that time.

Giriko smiled. "You're really startin' to get it," he said with satisfaction. "But I wasn't tryin' to trick you. I was just thinkin' that I could reduce the lashes if I just punished you another way instead. You think that's fair?"

Mifune was a little dizzy. What possible punishment would Giriko have come up with now? "Whatever you think is fair, sir," he said. "I'm sure that I don't have a clue what's appropriate."

Giriko was looking at him thoughtfully. "Well, here's what I think is appropriate," he said, the tone a little mocking. "I think I'll give ya a good half of the lashes, but with a cat - it's a bit easier than the crop, but harder than the spanking ya love so much. And then you stay all day tomorrow."

 _No, anything but that,_ Mifune thought, his eyes widening. It wasn't that he thought a single day was so terrible, but he could see where Giriko was going with this. He was thwarted in his desire to have Mifune with him _full_ -time, so he was just going to use excuses like this to keep him longer and longer.

"I...I...Angela-sama will be worried if I don't show up all day," Mifune stammered. "Normally she doesn't realize that I'm even gone all night, since I get back before she wakes."

Giriko curled his fingers in Mifune's hair. "I'll give ya one free visit," he said magnanimously. "It's probably more fair that way anyway. Half an hour, no punishment, at whatever time ya want. But just _once_ \- you can decide if you want to share a meal, or read her a bedtime story or what. But ya got to tell me in advance."

This...actually seemed staggeringly fair. Mifune was going to be permitted to pick what time he would be able to escape Giriko for a full half-hour? And he wouldn't even be punished for taking the time off?

Obviously the requirement to tell him beforehand was so that Mifune couldn't use it as a way to escape one of Giriko's poor moods, or interrupt something in the middle if it became too difficult to bear. But that wasn't all that surprising. From Giriko's perspective it seemed quite generous.

He swallowed. Given the unprecedented nature of the offer, it seemed Mifune had better accept this with grace, or Giriko might change his mind or be unnecessarily cruel to make the day more of a punishment. "Thank you, sir," he said, a little breathlessly. "If it's OK, I'd like to have lunch with her." That should break up the day nicely, and Angela wouldn't be left wondering where he had gone for too terribly long before he showed up.

"Yeah, I can let ya do that," Giriko said magnanimously. He gave Mifune's head a satisfied pat. "Now get inta the bedroom and take your position."

Mifune got to his feet, a little dazedly. Now suddenly the reality of the situation was beginning to hit him. It wasn't just a matter of enduring for a couple of hours until Giriko was exhausted and went to sleep, perhaps giving him a blowjob in the morning and then sneaking back to his own suite once more. He would have to spend the _whole_ day with Giriko.

He didn't know what Giriko spent his day _doing_. And certainly there would be none of his swordsmanship training to break up the day. Only a single half-hour span of liberty, which would be barely enough to run back and eat a hasty meal with Angela, reassure her, and then hurry back to attend Giriko once more.

He'd just have to take it one step at a time, or he'd really start to feel oppressed by it.

Moving almost on autopilot, Mifune walked into the bedroom and knelt on the bed, gripping the headboard and prostrating himself. The chains bound him tightly and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He didn't know what a 'cat' really was, but he knew it wouldn't hurt as much as the crop did, and he was sure he could bare a few dozen strokes of that if he had to.

Besides, being relaxed definitely helped a lot, he knew. His meditation exercises had come to serve him well over the last few days and he didn't tremble with fear as he waited for Giriko, though his heart was pounding hard.

His cock began to stiffen as he heard Giriko rummaging around.

Noticing that reaction reminded him of a question he'd wanted to ask and he swallowed a bit. Giriko was in a pretty good mood. It might not be the best time, but if he didn't ask now he might not have the courage to do it later, and he felt he had the strength now.

"Sir, may I ask a question?" he asked awkwardly. "And would you please, _please_ answer me honestly?"

"Hmm?" He heard Giriko walking towards the bed and felt the mattress bow as he climbed onto it. "Fuck, I definitely need to get you a proper rack. The bed is shit for this. What's your question?"

Mifune swallowed hard, gathering courage and steeling himself for the answer before he'd even asked. "I...I was wondering if you were telling the truth when you were talking to Arachne about...about me."

Giriko sounded faintly surprised as he asked. "Which part do ya mean?"

"The...the part where you said I didn't know I was broken," Mifune said softly. It was bullshit. It _had_ to be bullshit.

A laugh greeted this question and Giriko patted him on the ass before pushing a dildo into his body without any warning whatsoever. Mifune groaned involuntarily as the cold, slick length penetrated him. He didn't know how many vibrators Giriko might own, but he could swear that this one was thicker than the one he had used on him before, or perhaps it was just his tenderness from earlier in the day.

He shifted slightly, spreading his knees wider apart, feeling his cock harden and swell in anticipation despite the discomfort.

The vibrator started to pulse inside him and he whimpered, but he struggled not to let his mind be fogged by the sensations. Giriko still hadn't actually answered his question.

"P-please sir, answer me," he whispered.

"Fuck, Mifune," Giriko said wryly. "If you got any doubt, you should look at yourself, begging like this. Of course you're broken. Ya just haven't accepted it yet."

"No...no, I'm not," Mifune said, horror-struck by the reply despite the fact that he'd tried to prepare himself for it. He had expected if Giriko didn't tell him what he wanted to hear that he would say something mocking, not this...this frank answer that rung so true. "I'm not broken! I can still think for myself. I don't like this."

Giriko chuckled again. "To be honest, I don't really want ya to stop being able to think for yourself. Just so long as you always do what I say and don't try to get away. And you _do_ like this." He touched Mifune's cock lightly with the tips of his fingers and Mifune couldn't stop a shudder of pleasure from running through him. He was so sensitive, so keyed up, knowing that as soon as Giriko tired of the topic he would begin to strike him, and the pain and pleasure would start to spiral within him once more.

"No..." he said, shaking his head in desperate negation.

"You're gettin' it all confused in your head, Mifune," Giriko said. "But you'll figure it out sooner or later, and then you'll understand that I ain't just trainin' you to do one thing."

Mifune had no idea what he was talking about, but in a moment the question was driven right out of his mind as Giriko struck him with the cat o' nine-tails across the ass and his whole body jerked at the pattern of stinging strikes.

"O-one," Mifune whimpered automatically. Counting had become second nature.

Giriko had been right, this was easier to bear than the crop, which could actually hurt a lot if he didn't modulate the power of the blow. But it was definitely more intense than the spanking as well. Each strike stung fiercely, but the vibrator pulsed inside Mifune and confused his senses until he was screaming and arching up into the next blow.

Giriko murmured encouragement and even stroked his skin, rubbing at the places he'd struck as if to soothe the pain, which only made the next blow even more intense and surprising. He varied the location, sometimes hitting him on the ass, sometimes higher up. Once the cat o' nine-tails wrapped itself around Mifune's thigh and one of the knotted strings struck him across the balls. Mifune screamed in real pain, jerking in his bonds hard enough to make his shoulders ache and the chain bite into the back of his neck savagely.

The last few sessions, Giriko hadn't used the cock ring to stop him from climaxing, and Mifune had often orgasmed in the middle of the proceedings. When he'd allowed himself to think of it at all, he had concluded that it was all part of Giriko's plan to somehow condition him to enjoy pain.

Today was no different. As Mifune dutifully chanted numbers into the forties, nearing the end of the punishment, he felt his body starting to tighten already despite the intensity - or perhaps because of it. His voice rose in a wavering, gasping cry.

"Oh...oh...god. Sir!"

"Yeah...yeah, come for me," Giriko growled, striking him again across the back. "Show me how much you like this, you fucking, begging, dirty whore."

Mifune called out the number of the strike, and then jerked hard as the climax slammed into him. He screamed, and felt a quick succession of blows fall on his back and ass just as the waves of ecstasy crashed over him.

Even as he writhed and shuddered through his orgasm, he felt Giriko pull the dildo from inside him. For a moment his orgasm stuttered and he let out another cry, this one distressed and pleading, only for Giriko to thrust his cock into him in one smooth push.

Giriko pounded into him hard, holding his hips steady and riding him with complete, merciless abandon. The waves of Mifune's orgasm abated long before Giriko had finished, and Mifune could only lie slumped, crying out softly each time a pulse of pleasure went through his exhausted and beleaguered body as Giriko happened to strike his prostate.

It was a complete, ruthless use of Mifune's body, without a single care for the slave's comfort or pleasure. Mifune couldn't quite feel indignant - he had, after all, just gotten off in spectacular fashion. But it was more painful than enjoyable, and he was far too overwhelmed and weak to even move against Giriko in return.

Finally Giriko emptied himself into Mifune's body with a great shudder and a grunt, his fingers digging painfully into Mifune's hipbones.

The chains unwound themselves from the headboard and Giriko slumped to one side, pulling Mifune against him, still intimately joined. Mifune didn't resist the pull, shifting as best he could to fit himself, spoonwise, against Giriko in the way the swordsman knew he liked when he didn't want Mifune to be facing him.

Giriko murmured soothingly and stroked his hair in a lazy fashion as they both relaxed and caught their breath. Mifune didn't move, though the various pains in his body were making themselves felt. He was so very raw inside that he wondered if Giriko would ever leave himself alone long enough to fully heal. And his back was hot and stinging from shoulders to knees.

After a few long moments, Giriko heaved a sigh and pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of Mifune's neck. "You should thank me, ya know," he murmured.

It took Mifune a moment to summon the wherewithal to answer him. "Thank you, sir?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Giriko said lazily. "You liked that, didn't you? You should thank me for doin' something you liked so much."

Mifune was silent for a few moments.

"Thank me," Giriko said, a little more sternly. "Tell me that you like it. But I'll know if you lie."

For a moment, Mifune was at a loss. How could he both tell Giriko that he enjoyed it, and not lie?

 _Who the fuck am I kidding?_ he thought suddenly, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hunching in on himself.

"Say it," Giriko said. "Say it, Mifune."

Mifune swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. "I...I like it when you hurt me," he said, the words almost a whimper. "Th-thank you, sir."

He felt Giriko's lips spread in a smile against the back of his neck. "Good...good boy. Now go to sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Mifune lay where he was, unmoving, weighed down by misery as Giriko got up, pulled off the rest of his own clothes, and turned off the lights. He didn't move as Giriko returned to the bed and pulled the blankets over them both, but turned over obediently in response to Giriko's silent urgings and nestled against him.

"Am I really broken?" he whispered.

"Yup," Giriko said smugly. "But it's better if ya don't worry about it too much."

That seemed like strangely wise advice, and Mifune nodded. He cinched himself a little more closely against Giriko's side as the weapon rubbed gentle fingers down his arm and his over-sensitive, tortured back.

Still tingling from the afterglow of the orgasm, and utterly exhausted by the events of the evening, it took only a few moments longer before he dropped off to sleep.


End file.
